


(Un)stuck

by navaan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Coma, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Inspired by Fanart, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon, Reality, Reality Bending, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: He finds himself in different places, living different lives. And yet it all comes back to Steve.





	(Un)stuck

**Author's Note:**

> Infinity War spoilers I guess, although this is set in the future after a potential Avengers 4 that exists in my head and told sort of out of sequence (read and find out ;D).
> 
> This story was written for the Cap-IronMan Reverse Big Bang 2018 and inspired by the [absolutely amazing and sad art](https://78.media.tumblr.com/0f4af820226929c82f4ebbcc4e664c14/tumblr_pa2rkfc63N1xro0pco1_1280.png) by [Apivotal](https://apivotal.tumblr.com/). We saw IW after the art claims and after we had already brainstormed the multiverse story of our dreams, but as Apivotal was one of the two people I dumped all of my post-IW excitement and thoughts on, and as we'd discussed different possibilities how the scene in her art could have come about previously, somewhere in my mind this happened and just flowed out.
> 
> I call this the surprise RBB. \o/
> 
> Thank you so much for the super inspiring art and talks and encouragement and beta notes. This wouldn't have been written without you. I know it's been an extremely busy real life time for both of us, so this is even more appreciated. ♥ Thank you so much for working with me. It's always a pleasure to work with you.  
>   
> [Her art masterpost is here.](https://apivotal.tumblr.com/post/174745777130/i-got-lucky-enough-to-get-partnered-with-navaan)
> 
>  
> 
> [She also made an additional piece for this story here.](https://apivotal.tumblr.com/post/175175527695/good-god-steve-said-in-a-husky-growl-when-he)
> 
>  
> 
> Also thank you to Pazithi for giving it the final beta!

He opened his eyes and found himself in Central Park not quite sure how he’d gotten there in the first place. He knew that something was strange about this because he could’ve sworn that the last time he’d consciously thought about it he’d been with Pepper at the Tower. He looked over and hoped to catch a glimpse of it in the distance to remind him with its concrete shape of the here and now, the familiar letters marking it as Avengers Tower with hard and undeniable truth. 

No.

That wasn’t correct, was it?

Stark Tower.

Beacon of clean energy.

That sounded right.

A jogger sprinted past him and even following her movements with his eyes made him dizzy. But something about it felt familiar, too. He looked down at himself. He was wearing running shoes and the right kind of clothes for some exercise. Had he been running?

He’d been running with… Pepper?

But where was she?

She must be around?

It wasn’t like him to go running outside alone. He had a perfectly serviceable workout room to do his exercises alone, right?

In Malibu.

But also… he looked into the vague direction of the Tower again and had the sudden epiphany that it _had_ been Avengers Tower, had been Stark Tower before that - but was neither of those things anymore.

A park bench only a few feet away from him was a welcome sight. He walked over and sat down before his knees could give out on him.

Why couldn’t he clearly remember, how he’d gotten here? Why couldn’t he clearly remember where he lived or where anybody was?

The house in Malibu was gone, too, wasn't it?

The Avengers were upstate now?

Yes, that sounded about right.

But no tangible memory of “upstate” wanted to form in front of his inner eye.

A brown haired teenager ran past and Tony stepped out of the way absentmindedly. The kid was 15, maybe 16 or 17, all lanky limbs and carefree laugh that Tony wasn't sure he'd ever possessed at that age. The boy picked up a football and turned to grin at Tony for a moment - because he was standing there, or because he was recognized as Iron Man?

Tony didn’t know the kid and yet he froze, his thoughts spinning; spinning until he felt he was falling face first into an abyss and again he couldn’t find any memory or explanation for his own reaction to a harmless situation.

 _God_ , he thought, _I’m having a stroke._

 _No, PTSD_ , he thought. _Isn't that past me?_

Black abyss.

Space.

_You’re not over this yet._

He leaned over, steadied his arms on his thighs and tried to focus on simple breathing exercises, listened to the footfall of joggers and people walking by and willed himself to go unnoticed.

“There you are!” someone called.

Startled he looked up. “Steve?”

Cap stood there in training pants and a blue tight fitting t-shirt. He’d been running, working up a sweat even and Tony knew from experience that it took a lot to do that. Steve's eyes were shining with uncontained joy.

“I got worried when I didn't catch you down at the other side of the Pond.”

“At the Pond,” Tony repeated, trying to sort out his thoughts. He’d been jogging. Not with Pepper but Steve.

“Yeah, I usually catch you there for my third round,” Steve said with an impish and only half-apologetic smile. He wasn't bragging, just stating facts.

Oh.

Yes, right. Of course, he was here with Steve. Following a routine.

“Are you alright? You're white as a sheet.” Steve held out a hand and Tony took it without even thinking about it, let himself be pulled back to his feet. His eyes came level with Steve’s chest for a moment and he wondered - blue t-shirt, did I pick that for him? - then the world seemed to straighten out.

“Yes,” he said and felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “I’m fine.”

“No slacking off then, Shellhead,” Steve said warmly and kissed him on the crown of his hair, quick and careful, stepping out of Tony’s space again before anyone could catch them being too close. “Come on. You have a run to finish.”

“And you three,” he teased.

“Right-o,” Steve said and was already falling into a jog and pulling Tony along by the hand.

All memories added up suddenly when Steve smiled at him with a smile that shone brighter than the sun over his Malibu pool. He let himself fall into step, realized that Steve was pacing himself to not sprint away so that they could run side by side for a bit.

For him.

For Tony.

Because Steve was here with Tony.

Because they were here together.

It felt good. It felt right. It felt like this was where he belonged.

“Let’s eat at that little place two streets away from the Tower and then go home, Tony. We've earned a break.”

Home.

Yeah, that sounded good, but more than that, he _felt_ it. This here felt like home.

He let himself be pulled along and in and drifted in warmth and love and the security of the here and now.

Real.

This was real.

* * *

A stream of pinkish water pooled in the sink, but the cut on his cheek was clean and not as bad as he'd first thought. He looked into the mirror, took stock of all the cuts and bruises he'd carried away from their fight with Killian and his Extremis enhanced super soldiers. Pepper was in the next room, calling: “Tony?”

The lingering terror in her voice broke his heart.

“Yes, Pepper?” He pulled away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom to see her sit on the bed.

“You can set this right, yes, Tony? You can?”

The lingering smell of singed bedspread lingered in the air and she was holding up her right hand. It was glowing a bright red with the empowering heat of Extremis. He leaned in the doorway of the bathroom and watched, trying to be the calm and sensible one for once.

_Why's she even with me? She didn't want any of this. And trouble like this follows me around now. I'm Iron Man and an Avenger and I don't think I want to be anything else. But I love her so much. How could I let this happen to her?_

“I can set it right, Pepper. Trust me. Now relax, honey.”

She stared at him and he gave her a puppy dog eyed look from beneath his bangs. Then he chuckled.

And then Pepper chuckled.

It was going to be fine.

They had weathered this inferno. They had just literally set a hotel room bed on fire and come out of it unscathed, too.

All _after_ he'd nearly drowned in his own house.

What else could the universe throw at them now that they couldn't take?

He went over to his only slightly singed side of the bed and let himself fall down onto the mattress, too tired to care about the state of it at all. Pepper laughed, finally relaxing a bit. Her hand became cool skin and bones and lost all of the glowing fire instantly. For now, until he fixed it, they would have to make sure she remained calm.

“I'm dating a flaming-red Hulk,” Tony said. “No big deal.”

“You're in trouble, Tony,” she told him, more agreeable than before.

That was good.

They were dealing.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed an old-fashioned phone on the nightstand. A flip phone. Out of place and strange in this hotel room. And whose was it? Why was it on his nightstand? Had he ever even owned one of these?

Surely not such a cheap plastic one without any sense of style and... god, the tech was an insult.

“Pepper?” he started and wanted to ask where the thing had come from. When it rang at exactly that moment he nearly jumped out of his skin. Pepper looked at him curiously. He snatched it up, prepared for another terrorist scheme.

The caller ID read “Steve Rogers” though and that would have been a strange choice for any terrorist.

He flipped it open. “Hi?”

“You were supposed to call me, Tony. When you needed me, you were supposed to call.”

That sounded right.

And wrong.

Something about it was wrong and something right, and he couldn't put his finger on it.

He looked over his shoulder at Pepper who smiled warmly.

It all seemed real and calm and like the usual chaos that was his life - and yet like he'd missed some steps here. How had he received the phone? Why not use something he'd built?

“Are you alright?” Steve asked.

And from the edge of the bed Pepper echoed: “Tony? Are you okay?”

He had gone white, a sheen of cold sweat covered his brow and neck and panic gripped him when he realized there was a gap in his memory. A blank. A void. Again. Again? He presses the heel of his hand into his eye socket to keep the sudden headache at bay. “Yes,” he said to Pepper, but also into the phone. “Yes, yes, everything is fine. Long day. Give me a break. I would have called, Cap. Don't nag.”

* * *

A stream of pinkish water pooled in the sink, but the cut on his cheek was clean now. It would heal. He looked into the mirror to study his face, took stock of all the cuts and bruises and then wriggled his eyebrows at himself. Steve was leaning in the doorway and watched him, arms folded in front of his broad chest. It made his shoulders look even wider. A small smile stole over Tony's face and he caught a glimpse of it in the mirror.

He looked banged up and happy.

“You alright?” Steve asked and the worry in his low voice made butterfly wings tingle along the inside of Tony's stomach.

“Nah,” he said. “When am I ever? I'm Tony Stark though. I'll make it better, eventually.”

Steve huffed. “Thanks for sending that message.”

“I didn't want you to worry your pretty, stubborn head when I wasn't actually dead.” He tried for flippant and it came out somewhere between husky and squeaking because Steve stepped over to lean against his back and wrap his arms around him in a loose hug.

“I'm glad you're okay.”

Awkwardly pressed against the sink and immobilized by Steve's weight Tony wriggled one arm free and patted Cap's strong biceps. “I'm okay, Steve. We're okay. Everything is fine.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered against the nape of his neck.

Tony wondered when they'd gotten here. To this cozy little bathroom, he didn't recognize at all. Was this where Steve lived?

He didn't know.

But right now he didn't want to be anywhere else.

* * *

He walked down the hospital hallway, leaving the nurses and medics behind him. The light of the setting sun was streaming in through the windows and bathing the rooms in an eerie warm light. He walked past a number of rooms as if he had any idea where he was going. But Tony had no idea how he'd arrived here. His steps were loud in his ears and he was wearing a red ball cap and a plain gray sweat jacket that he couldn't remember picking up. His face was hidden behind the customary sunglasses that so easily distracted people from his face.

Nobody seemed to notice him.

He supposed that was the point of the disguise, but why was he here?

And how did he know where to go?

“I'm sorry, Tony,” someone said in a broken, pained voice. “I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner.”

The voice made him freeze in his tracks and suddenly he knew. Like a bolt of lightning, it all just came back and hit him with the force of a natural disaster.

Tony was in that room. In the hospital bed.

But he was also out here.

He peeked around the corner. And there he was. Tony Stark out to the world, breathing into a translucent plastic mask, stable but unconscious. The body on the bed was eerily still, the face deathly pale. The Tony on the bed was caught in the precious state between life and death.

But it was Steve's tired face that caught Tony's eyes.

Steve never looked exhausted, never looked defeated like this – but that was exactly what he looked like now as he was sitting there at Tony's own bedside. With a heavy sigh, Steve leaned forward in the uncomfortable hospital chair that seemed too small for him. “You need to wake up, Tony. The Avengers still need you. We all need you.”

Despite being the one in the bed, Tony felt like an intruder, a stranger who had walked in on a scene not meant for him.

But Steve was talking to him. The real him. The right him.

 _Him_.

Tony Stark who was lying comatose in a hospital bed.

Or standing out here listening.

Who of them was Steve talking to?

“ _I_ need you, Tony. I need you to come back to me. After all, we've been through, this can't be how it ends. I won't have it.” A sob broke Steve's speech. His shoulders shook slightly. Then he moved, sat up straighter again, shook the desperation off like he would on the battlefield. He mumbled something, but Tony couldn't catch it, because he slipped to the side and leaned against the wall beside the open door.

He'd seen enough.

[ Art by Apivotal](https://apivotal.tumblr.com/post/174745777130/i-got-lucky-enough-to-get-partnered-with-navaan)

“Come back to me, Tony. We didn't even have time to talk.”

And with terrible clarity, Tony remembered. He was real, out here in the hallways, but Steve talking to him in that room - that too was real.

Thanos. The Infinity Gems. Losing. Winning.

It had all happened.

It was all real.

A motion at the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he thought he saw a swishing red cloak vanish behind a corner.

“I'll be here when you wake up,” Steve promised to another Tony in the room beside him. With some effort, Tony pushed himself away from the wall, started walking, stepped straight towards a window and a glimmer of red folded around him, pulling him away.

* * *

This time when his eyes opened and he found himself in Central Park there wasn't even the lingering hint of confusion. He stood alone by the Pond and Steve caught up to him, smiling. “We should do this more often!” he called even before he'd reached Tony.

Tony smiled, but the voice of the Steve at his hospital bedside still rang in his ears. “Maybe we should,” he agreed and looked around for any hint of another Tony, any hint of another life or time.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked and followed his cautious gaze.

“Nah,” Tony said and took Steve's hand. “I'm just paranoid.”

He pulled Steve along, not into a run, but a stroll and they ended up walking side by side, fingers interlocked. It was nice and easy and Steve's face lit up with the sunlight and smiles in ways Tony had never thought he'd get to see. It was all so shiningly bright and detailed, concrete and tangible, extant and _there_ in every way.

The magical precise beauty of the moment edged itself into his memory and he wanted to grasp it with both hands and seize it, hold it there forever.

It was a shame that this wasn't real, that this didn't belong to him.

He wondered why in all the scenes he kept reliving, there was only him, not the other Tony who should be here. Was it because he was lying in that hospital bed in a coma and was walking through scenes of his possible lives like a ghost, taking doorway after doorway without a floor plan?

 _“Come back to me”_ Steve's voice whispered in his mind. _“We're not through.”_

* * *

Sometime after the third remembered run in Central Park – and all came back to Central Park and someone running with him over and over again – Tony realized that he wasn't a visitor in strange realities, but that he was walking through possibilities that could be manifested if he so chose. The red colored glow came from him. He could touch and taste it – the power and options.

Even now, in a cave in Afghanistan with an arc reactor prototype in his chest made from the weapons he made to kill with too much precision, he could see the red glow overlaying the blue at the edges of reality.

“Is someone waiting for you, Stark?” Yinsen asked, his sure fingers working on the task Tony had set him.

 _I missed the chance to get to know this man outside this cave_ , he realized. _We could have been friends long before, but I was too caught up in my own brilliant misery._

“No,” he lied softly. He knew now that there were people waiting for him – in the moment he was reliving and in the moment he was hiding from, but that had never mattered here at the moment when this scene had played out. That had come later. “There's nobody.”

“Are you sure?”

Tony was sure. “Come on,” he said to change the subject. “Let me try something.”

The Iron Man was nearly complete and his plan could be put into action. Of course, Tony had done it before – escaped this hell with the help of Yinsen's sacrifice. “This time,” he muttered, “let's do this right.”

“This time?” The doctor followed him around the workbench with a tight smile. “How often do you get taken by terrorists?”

Laughter was rising out of the depth of his sorrow then, but it had no place here, the laughter and amusement. “Manner of speaking. Knocking on wood,” he said instead of any of the things his mind provided and calculated exactly how much time he would need to speed up the process of booting the Iron Man – and how much time he needed to buy them to keep Yinsen from making his heroic last stand. “Your family will be glad to get you back.”

Yinsen looked at him sadly. “You say there's nobody waiting for you?”

_Wake up, Tony. Come back to me. This can't be how it ends._

“Maybe,” he said as they started to put the pieces of their plan into action. “Somewhere down the line.”

* * *

Tony stood in the open hospital door this time and watched himself sleep. Steve wasn't there and neither was anybody else. “I pulled Yinsen out of there and... We stuck to the plan and it all worked out. It could have gone that way. He's still there in that... in that place.”

His own face didn't move a muscle as the other Tony Stark lay in the bed, hooked up to monitors and breathing with the help of machines. It was eerily fitting to see himself that way.

“I know it doesn't change anything,” he said. “I'm not time traveling. I don't know what it is I'm doing. But somewhere out there Yinsen lives and he and Tony can be friends outside a cave prison. That's something we can be proud of? You and me?”

Behind him the door opened and Tony froze dead in his tracks until he remembered that he didn't need to be here if he didn't want to be.

Bruce stepped into the room, followed by Steve. Neither of them saw the second out of place Tony standing there at the foot of the bed, only the unconscious man in it. Being who he was Bruce made a beeline for the charts and monitors, made a sound here and there as he checked Tony's vitals.

Steve still looked pale, but Tony was glad to see that he looked less tired.

“I'm glad someone told you to shave,” Tony said out loud, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't here enough for Steve to hear him. “The beard looked ridiculous.”

Not noticing anyone had spoken Steve moved to stand beside the bed, started to straighten out the blankets, made sure the Tony over there was comfortable or at least as comfortable as he was going to get. From his place in the corner, Tony could see exactly how much care Steve put into each task.

He had to look away.

It was too much.

He had expected some guilt, some grief.

He had not expected this continued care and worry.

He hadn’t expected to make anyone this sad.

“I should have gone the whole way,” he said out loud and studied the mirror of his own face with the pale skin and the deep dark circles under the closed eyes. “Maybe a funeral would have been less painful. Closure. Would have given everyone a chance to move on. Including me.”

He wasn't sure why he was saying all this out loud. It wasn't like he would allow anyone to hear him. But the sleeping Tony in the bed was his only co-conspirator and sometimes thoughts needed to be shared to develop properly.

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked and he'd stopped his ministrations and kept still to listen.

“Heard?” Bruce looked up from the chart to study Steve.

Tony's heart froze and he held his breath when Steve's eyes fell on him – or the spot he was occupying that Tony willed to be empty. And yet, without anything to fix his eyes on Steve somehow knew exactly where to look. It was like Steve was staring right at Tony.

“I just heard... I'm going crazy,” he said and looked back at the Tony in the bed as if he wanted to make sure he was still there, that he hadn’t vanished suddenly. “I just thought I heard Tony. I’m sorry.”

With a sad expression Bruce patted Steve on the back. “I wish I could tell you that he’s going to be his own flippant self very soon, Cap. But the truth is I have no idea at all what’s the problem. Neither does anyone else. The readings make sense, then they don’t. It’s like... ”

“Like?” Steve’s fingers were gliding along Tony’s on the bedspread and Tony - the one standing there unseen – remembered their hands touching in Central Park in another time and place. He decided that instant that he’d seen more than enough for one day.

Bruce had left the door open and Tony practically ran from the room. He didn’t stop. He sprinted forward and although still, nobody was looking at him he didn’t slow down. He could still hear part of Bruce words drift after him: “...’re not real. Like he’s there and not there at the same time.”

Nobody looked up as he ran past, but he saw a sudden glimpse of green skin and black and red hair before he stepped through

* * *

“Did you waste your life, Stark?” Yinsen was moving his small Espresso cup like an expert and then drank the dark, hot liquid with one single draw.

Tony watched him, happy that they were sitting here in a small Café close to campus - two friends catching up with each other.

“I don’t think so.” He watched his own hands, the fingers gliding over a tablet that a moment ago they’d used to show each other calculations and discuss students. There was a picture of Captain America and Iron Man on the front page of the newspaper. The heroes were standing side by side, battling off aliens in New York.

“Why do you look so sad all the time then?” Yinsen asked.

Nobody - not Pepper, not Rhodey, not the Avengers - had dared to ask this so directly.

“I’m Iron Man,” he said, avoiding the real answer.

“I know that. For years I was the only one who knew that,” Yinsen told him and barely kept from rolling his eyes. “That’s a reason to be proud.”

He shrugged, not sure it was true.

“Then why?”

Taking a moment to answer, Tony leaned back in his chair, watched customers run in and out, wondered about the life he’d lived here in this bubble of unreality. 15 years had come and gone without time passing anywhere but here. “Because I wish life would be so easy. Make a mistake, go back set it right.”

“That’s what you did. Over and over.”

Yinsen meant all the times he’d had to pick himself up and reinvent himself, all the times that mistakes had come back to haunt him and he’d pushed to be better. Tony thought of another place and life, of Thanos and losing half of humanity, watching Peter Parker dissolve in front of his eyes.

“Maybe that’s not enough,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not real,” he said truthfully and felt the reality around him unravel and shift and the doctor’s kind face fall away into the mystical depth of memory.

* * *

His face hurt, his arm hurt, his back hurt, his fucking _teeth_ hurt and the only thing he could wonder, as he stared up at the ugly gray ceiling of the Russian built bunker, was: “Why does it hurt more than when Thanos nearly killed you? More than when Thanos threw a planet's fucking moon at you? More than when he stabbed you in the stomach ready to deliver the final blow?”

_Because it wasn't Thanos who punched you._

_Because it was Steve._

_Because whatever you tell yourself, you’re never going to be good enough for Captain America in any world._

He'd accepted the fact of it a long time ago, maybe at a time when he hadn’t met Steve yet. _Thank you dad, A+ parenting there._

He let his head fall down on the floor, let the cold seep into his bones, let it linger there to tie him to this present, to this reality. Somebody else could clean up this mess that they’d made and he remembered that in the real world someone had. T'Challa had brought in Zemo and Tony had gone on pretending that he hadn't ever gone to Siberia at all.

With his aching bones and the powerless armor moving wasn't going to be easy anyway; he _remembered_ in detail how much getting up had pained him - and right now he just wanted to lie here and wallow in the sweet, black misery of it all. His body ached, but his emotions were in turmoil.

He'd lived this before. Survived it. Why did it still hurt so much?

Because Steve had raised his shield and for a moment Tony had been convinced that Steve would strike him and not the armor. And he would have deserved it. He'd snapped. He'd been out for blood at least in the worst moments of this fight.

Although he should have known better. Lashing out had felt like a relief, but it had only done more damage.

So, he was lying here on this floor once again, letting his eyes fall closed.

Somewhere else Tony had moved past this moment.

Because he'd had to.

Because there was a threat looming.

Because the Avengers were needed. 

Because getting up and starting over was what defined him.

But right now he was too tired to even contemplate getting the armor back up and running and save himself. This wasn't real, not what was real to him anyway. Somewhere else Steve was sitting at a Tony's bedside saying: “We didn't even get to talk things through.” Meaning _this_. Meaning this moment. Meaning Tony never got to make the phone call and all their final conversations had been on the battlefield long after.

Meaning things had never gone back to a place of friendship after this.

This was final.

Steps sounded on the concrete.

He didn't open his eyes.

He couldn't.

He'd seen too many glimpses of red cloaks and green skin appear at the edges of his vision lately and he knew that someday someone would catch up to him.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready to face whatever it was he needed to face then. Very hard he'd tried not to think about it.

The steps came closer.

Stopped by his head.

“Can you move?”

It was Steve.

Steve who'd never come back for him in real life.

Tony's eyes flew open. He was in that lingering state between the emotions he'd felt when he'd lived through this the first time and the emotions of the man who left all this behind years ago. _Let go,_ he told himself and willed himself to not hear his mother's broken voice and the sounds she made as the Winter Soldier killed her.

Steve stood over Tony, looking down, his face unhappy.

“Tony,” he said and there was an explanation about to spill from his lips that Tony really, _really_ didn't want to hear in any world or fake reality.

“I'm tired,” he said, “can we not?”

Steve blinked, watched him, surprised, as Tony just closed his eyes again to wait for Steve to leave or ignore his words and say his piece.

Leather shifted, a body sat down by his head. When he peered up, Steve had taken up a place beside him and fallen into a half lying position, knees pulled up, but keeping himself propped up on his elbows to watch Tony’s reaction. “Let's not do this again,” he said.

“Okay,” Tony agreed from a place far in the future of this moment. “Sounds good. Never again.”

He closed his eyes, listened to the quiet sound of a jet taking off outside and wondered if T'Challa would get Barnes help just so Thanos could take their lives away later or if in this place everything would play out differently.

Steve cleared his throat. “I'm sorry I didn't...”

“Don't,” Tony said because he still didn't want to hear any of it. Not right now. He opened his eyes to catch Steve's gaze and make him understand exactly how not ready either of them were for another argument after this. Burning shame and anger were still lingering under the surface ready to break free at any second, even though Tony understood now that he needed to deal with his own trauma in other ways. But the Tony from later on in this mess needed to throw Steve a boon at least for coming back at all: “You can help me out of the armor later. But right now: Shut up.”

It looked like Steve was going to say something more – mouth hanging open, ready to speak and protest. Then he nodded to Tony or to himself and let his back hit the concrete, resting, arms stretched out beside Iron Man, eyes closing.

There would still be fights. Technically Steve was still a fugitive. Half the Avengers were trapped on the Raft. They needed to prove how Zemo had played them and spin something in any possible direction to get out of this. Because the Avengers would be needed.

Thanos was coming. ( _Had_ come and they'd not been prepared.)

Tony kept staring up at nothing, thinking: _Was there any world where it could have gone this way?_

_Would we have been prepared?_

_Together?_

* * *

Tony was wearing the gray sweat jacket over a white t-shirt, the ball cap, and sunglasses. His jeans were the washed out kind he wore in the garage or workshop. Hell, he missed Malibu and the garage.

He was leaning against the wall again, listening. The setting sun was bathing everything in a warm light, painting the scenes with a glow that made reality seem like the illusion.

But this was still real.

“Tony, come on. You need to wake up. Bruce thinks you're keeping yourself in a coma because you're ready to give up. But after all of this, after winning this, you can't just give up. Come back, please.”

Steve, sitting in his small hospital chair by the bedside, was talking in a quiet voice that carried every word to the Tony outside of the room. He still felt like an intruder, but he had come to accept that Steve was talking to him. This was real. This was his reality.

If ever he found the strength to fight being unstuck in reality, then this was where he'd wake up.

All these words were for him, but he doubted Steve would voice them so freely if he knew Tony was standing here.

“There's something I never told you,” Steve said and went quiet.

Tony strained to hear what else he had to say, but when he peeked inside the room Steve was sitting there with his arms on his thighs, staring in front of himself like the room had fallen away. He was contemplating his next words, or the thing that he wanted to remain unspoken.

“I thought you were dead. When Bruce called and I saw the news of the spaceship and that you were missing, I thought you were dead then. I thought it was all over.”

But it hadn't been. Tony knew Steve had rallied the forces after Bruce had called them in. And Tony had found tentative allies in space to fight his own fight.

“I thought, let's do this and then... Then I can go hide somewhere and grieve.”

Why would he have grieved when they’d restored the world? For everything, he'd lost over the years?

“I had no right... And... We weren't even talking. You were... You and Pepper were...”

Would Cap have grieved for Tony? Was he still grieving now, because Tony had left him behind?

“I just have the worst possible timing,” Steve said and let himself fall back in his chair. “Bucky always told me that I was so focused on the things I thought I needed to do that I would one day miss the chance to do what I wanted to do. And you probably don't want to hear about Bucky now, huh? Sorry. It’s just that...” He stopped and heaved a heavy sigh.

Tony nearly huffed. He didn't want to hear about James Barnes. Barnes was the furthest thing from his mind right now. He wanted the old man to get to the point.

“But you're still here, Tony. And we've made this right. We beat Thanos together and set it right for everyone. Now you just have to wake up, so things are set right for you.” Steve's breath hitched and it sounded like half a sob, strangled with bereavement, but caught before it could set forth the emotions it was meant to mask.

The sound was nothing anyone would have associated with Captain America, but the firm reality of it planted itself in the room like a sign that wouldn’t be ignored. Worried Tony dared to glance in through the door, took in Steve's hunched over pose, the hand pressed over his eyes – and wanted to flee again.

Nothing was scarier than the reality of this.

“I'm sorry, Tony. I never told you how much I admire you. I never wanted it to be this way. I...”

He needed to run now.

He saw Steve get up, treacherous wetness glistening on one cheek, and walk to the bedside. He leaned over to press a soft kiss onto Tony's pale forehead, chaste and so very caring.

Shocked Tony could do nothing more but stare.

“I'm not sure I realized it before, but I love you.”

Tony choked.

He needed to flee.

He didn't need to see this.

It was one thing to play with the possibilities of a relationship in the safety of unreality. But this was real. This wasn't supposed to be... possible.

“I love you.”

Tony gasped. It felt like a bullet had just pierced his flesh.

And then – as if drawn by the sound or the distress – Steve turned around and they were staring at each other. “Tony?”

The edges of the world around him started to glow red; Tony could see the power take form as strands around him. He was willing himself away, but too late. Steve had glimpsed him here, had made a step towards him, raised a hand to touch.

Had _seen_ through the veil woven so tightly around Tony.

But there it was: the reality gem in his hand letting him do what he needed. 

Go.

* * *

It was hard to forget the whispered: “I love you.”

But for a while he allowed himself to rest in a reality where the Malibu house had never been touched by his crazy life. He found himself by the pool staring out at the ocean, enjoying the luxury of not having to _think_.

Calm had been the opposite of his life for so long, that he considered just staying here in this place, no Iron Man, no Avengers, no Cap, no Thanos.

Right until he heard the tripling of small feet behind him and the bell-like laugh of a girl.

No.

He couldn't see that. He didn’t want to live with the details of that, the perfect knowledge of what it could have been like.

So he ran again.

* * *

He forgot sometimes that he held the reality gem and that he could twist and turn reality around himself when he wanted to. He wasn't sure how he could forget, or why he couldn't always take control. Perhaps someone else would have the answer – Strange, Thor, perhaps even Thanos. Tony just wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

Vaguely he remembered that this journey had started when they'd broken up the gauntlet and set free the gems.

He remembered other people there, each taking a gem.

And he saw them sometimes – glimpses of green-skinned aliens, red-cloaked doctors and godlike protectors.

He never stopped to ask his questions and they never caught up with him.

* * *

When he found himself in Central Park once more, he wasn't running and nobody was with him. He was wearing the running shoes and track pants he liked best though, eyes again hidden by oversized sunglasses.

_Why am I hiding this time?_

He just stood there, looking out at the water, waiting, trying not to be noticed.

In his hand he was holding the flip phone.

Steve.

Again.

It all came back to Steve with a scary inevitability.

“Hey.”

He didn't need to turn to see that it was Steve who had walked up and called out to him – looking like a hipster with glasses and a baseball cap. A jibe was on his lips, but what spilled out instead was: “What are we doing here, Steve?”

Only then did he look over to catch Steve's profile. They were both looking out at the Pond now. Together.

Together at the end like they'd been so often.

Steve's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Slowly he turned around to face Tony; he even raised an arm to his shoulder, grasped it tightly.

“I'm glad you called, Tony.”

Tony just studied him, calmly waiting for how things would play out this time. Was this how they became running partners? Was it another life altogether? How did you tell?

Then Steve leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were soft, warm and dry and Tony knew he didn't have it in himself to pull away.

“I'm so glad you called,” Steve whispered, their foreheads touching. “I...”

Because he wasn't sure he could take whatever it was Steve wanted to offer him, he pulled him down into another kiss, letting their tongues do the talking as the world fell away.

* * *

This time he was on Titan.

He hadn't seen Titan since the last time when all had been lost and he'd helplessly watched as Strange and Peter fell into dust in front of his eyes, thinking: _It should have been me. He had me. It should have been me. Why am I alive?_

This time was different though.

He turned with as much terror as before when Quill and Drax and Mantis started to dissolve and fall apart and fade. Nebula was standing to the side watching, too shocked to speak or move, grasping the monstrosity of what was going on. And Tony knew that behind him sat Strange, still there, still solid – and Tony turned around to look at him, _to make sure_ he was still there. In the movement he already felt it, the staggering of limbs, the nausea, the terror when time grasped for him and reality was pulled out and fractions and particles screamed a loud good-bye of terror.

“Good,” he said to Strange. “It's better this way.”

Strange _stared_ , shocked.

Tony heard Peter cry out beside him: “Mr. Stark! Don't go!”

And he could see his own arm dissolving, his body vanishing into dust, but Peter's arms reaching for him, to catch him before he could stagger and fall were solid.

 _Good_ , he thought. _It has to end somewhere. Should have ended here and so many times before._

He gave into it, let himself fall into the dissolution of the self.

The reality around him shifted, but there was no red glow, and Tony realized that time had stopped and he was frozen in this moment, dissolving yet still here, hanging by a thread as parts of him hang in the air. Everything had stopped and he was seeing Strange's shocked face and Peter's devastation, the tears in his eyes.

A female voice behind asked softly: “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Stark?”

The moment was still frozen, but he was putting himself back together, felt his form strengthen and then he was solid again. He could move his head to see Gamora, the only other living, moving being in the frozen scene where she didn't belong.

“What is this?” he asked because he might as well get answers now.

She looked at him with a near sad expression.

“We wanted to ask you the same thing,” Strange said from behind him and Tony spun around to face him, as the master of the mystic arts suddenly stepped out of the scene like a person from a painting.

His wounds were gone suddenly, and so were the dirt and grime of battle.

Tony blinked when Stephen closed the gap between them. The cloak swinging behind him dramatically broke the moment by waving at Tony like they were old friends.

“You said you were going to hide your gem,” Gamora told him, “and guard it well. We hadn't realized you meant to hide with it.”

He stared at her, not sure he had an answer to that, not sure any was necessary.

“That's not entirely what happened, is it?” Stephen continued the questioning. “Tell me, Tony, with all of reality to choose from why are you punishing yourself here?”

His eyes fell on Peter's form, his young face frozen in anguish.

“I made choices and some didn't come out so well. Some things weren't my choices at all, but they were on me anyway,” he said, deciding to be truthful. “There's a multiverse out there where all these things happened and I glimpsed them... in... when... When? When did I glimpse them?” He couldn't for the life of him remember when that had been, or what had led him here, but he remembered the feeling of knowing it all in an instant. Something, someone must have sealed a part of it away with his memory.

Gamora looked from him to Stephen, and Stephen nodded. “When you had the gauntlet – all the stones at once. When you wished the universe back into its former state. When you pulled the world back together. Between space and time, you saw all the possible outcomes, all the ways things could have been different.”

“Space and time?” He looked at his hand, the one that must have held all the power. There it was: The red gem. Reality.

Stephen deliberately showed him the necklace with the intricate contraption that held the green gem of time. The “Eye of something or other,” Tony couldn't remember. Time stone. Time Gem. That was what mattered.

“You had all of them,” Gamora said, “and you used them to reset the universe.”

He looked at her. There she was, daughter of Thanos, daughter of one of the first planets to suffer the Titan's justice. Delivered as a sacrifice to the soul stone she was now keeper of it. She was alive and here.

They had turned back time.

Tony remembered now.

“Why are you here, Tony? You could hide the stone and live your life?” she asked.

“That was never part of the plan, wasn't it?” Stephen had been extremely observant from the beginning – and in more ways than those of his mystic arts. “You've become... unstuck.”

Unstuck. Sometimes he had remembered that word and then forgotten.

Unstuck. Something about that resonated with him. Unstuck how? 

“What does that mean?” Gamora asked.

And Stephen, still staring at Tony like he was an open book to be studied, furrowed his brow. “Unstuck in reality. I know what the time gems can do. I suspect the reality gem isn't that different from the time gem. It's power, but dangerous.”

“I had the gauntlet,” Tony said. “I remember wishing the stones to be separate and guarded.” And he knew he was looking at the keepers of the soul and the time stones now. “And so they are. And then I thought, I can keep this stone. I can guard it. Nobody will come looking for it with me if I'm not to be found.”

“Ah,” Stephen said as if that made a huge amount of sense.

“But?” Gamora asked.

“But all roads lead back to... Steve.”

Stephen smiled at him then, a slightly crooked smile. “Don't you think after everything you deserve a little peace?”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

“Come with me,” Gamora offered. “We can go to places that hold no memories until you've anchored yourself a little.”

Stephen was still smiling the crooked smile. “I'll keep an eye on the Avengers,” he promised. “Steve will still be here when you come back.”

And with a heavy heart, not sure he was doing the right thing, he shifted the power and around them, Titan vanished. They were in a metal box that was the size of a small room. He remembered. He'd been playing around with B.A.R.F. in a hidden base in one of the offshore facilities he owned. He'd only wanted to explore options, play them out to find a way to hide himself and the stone.

“I'm not in that hospital room,” he said, slightly dazed at the realization.

“Yes,” Gamora said, “and no. You can make people see the reality you want them to see.”

“I shouldn't let them grieve.” He was thinking of Steve and Bruce and Rhodey. The people who had visited him regularly in that room where he wasn't in a coma.

“You shouldn't,” Stephen agreed. “But first we need to sort you out.”

Gamora was the one who helped him stand and Stephen open them one of his circular gates to let them out of the room. They found themselves back at Strange's sanctum.

“Yeah,” he said, “sort me out. Sounds good.”

But there was something he urgently needed to sort out that involved one more person.

 _He loves me,_ he thought with no small amount of wonder. _And I made him think I'm dead. I would be so angry._

* * *

This time Tony walked into the hospital wearing a silver-gray three-piece business suit and a burgundy tie. He was wearing sunglasses with an orange tinge. His hold on reality had strengthened and he wasn't as likely to lose himself in the illusions he made real.

He walked to the room he'd come to know so well with his hands in his pockets and without anyone even glancing his way.

Before entering he hesitated by the door, just like all the times before.

_Don't be a coward, Stark. You've hidden long enough._

“Steve,” someone inside the room said and Tony recognized it as Sam's. “Listen to Buck'. You can't stop living. You're not helping anyone by giving up on your own life. Not Stark, not yourself.”

“Natasha says you gave up on happiness long before. You should get it together and...”

“Yes, Bucky, thanks, I know.” Steve sounded passive-aggressively on the offensive – something that had driven Tony up the wall more than once. Right now it touched him to know that Steve was still the same old Steve, stubborn and single-minded when he'd chosen a hill to die on.

“Steve there's no way he was in two places at once. There's no way you heard him talk. You were tired and grieving and it must have played a trick on your mind.”

“Look,” Steve told Sam, “I know what I saw and I know what I heard and when I turned around he was still lying in the stupid bed. But I know it was real. I know it. An, after all, we've seen – from aliens to Loki to someone taking half of humanity away with a thought and to Tony using the gauntlet to reverse it, is it really so hard to believe that Tony Stark isn't dead?”

Tony took his place on the wall opposite the door to have a better view of what was going on. Only now did he realize that both Sam and Bucky were wearing uniforms in the style of Captain America. Apparently, there were some things he'd missed out on.

“No,” Bucky admitted. “But it also sounds like you're wishing very hard for it to be true.”

“And we don't want you to hang yourself on a dream.”

“I _ignored_ what I wanted for far too long,” Steve said, “and not for the first time in my life I might now be too late.”

His friends fell silent.

“I know I saw him. Bruce admits there are things here he can't explain. I have to believe Tony's still here, that something happened that put him in this bed that can be reversed.”

“What, Steve?”

“I don't know!”

His friends looked at him with so much pity and Steve looked back at them defiantly standing his ground. Tony felt bad for having caused all this. He hadn't meant for it to happen this way. Steve was the last person he would have thought to grieve at his bedside until he'd realized the truth.

“Come on, guys,” Steve urged. “Let me be. It's only been a few weeks and I... I'm not ready to let this go.”

Bucky shrugged and Sam made an unhappy sound. But then his communicator beeped.

“See?” Steve asked with a tired smile. “Even the world needs you to leave me here. Go, do what has to be done. You're Captain America.”

“That's what you should be doing.”

“We don't need a third Cap,” Steve said. “You're doing a good job as a team. Go, do a good job.”

Reluctantly they left him, driven by the urgency of the call. And Steve went back to sitting there again at Tony's bedside.

Tony looked after the two heroes then back at Steve.

“I love you,” Steve said to the sleeping form, “but even when you're like this you drive me crazy.”

Not sure if this was a good moment, Tony flexed his fingers and tried to come to a decision.

“I'm glad you're saying that,” he said, “because you drive me up the wall, Cap.”

Steve whirled around nearly knocking the chair over and Tony let him see through the illusion, stepped through the falling curtain into the room. With a sweep of his hand, using the gem he had set into a sort of a fingerless Iron Man gauntlet reality turned back to normal around Steve and Steve ended up staring at the empty hospital bed and at Tony.

“You bastard,” he growled and jumped up from his chair.

“Hey, hey,” Tony started, hands held up in a gesture of surrender, bracing himself. But Steve didn't attack. He wrapped Tony in his arms and held him in an uncomfortably tight embrace; he brought their foreheads together, giving the moment an uncomfortably hard edge of concrete feel that couldn’t be denied. There was no running from this.

“I knew it,” Steve mumbled and wasted no time to kiss him, explore his mouth like a starving man who'd finally found a saving grace.

A whimpering sound escaped his throat and Tony let himself fall into the reality of this kiss, kissed back with all the longing that had grown in him with every glimpse of a new life with or without Steve that he'd lived through briefly and yet so intensely.

“Good god,” Steve said in a husky growl when he pulled away, but hugged him tighter and hid his face in the crook of his neck. “You're too good at this. It's like you know exactly how I like to be kissed.”

“I have a head start,” he whispered into Steve's hair and felt the man startle when the meaning of his words sank in. “Lots of practice.”

[ Art by Apivotal](https://apivotal.tumblr.com/post/175175527695/good-god-steve-said-in-a-husky-growl-when-he)

“Where the hell have you been? How can you have had...”

“I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't know this would happen,” he hesitated, “I didn't know it would hurt you. I didn't know you felt...” 

Steve, eyes flashing with something so akin to deep love and anger, kissed him - harsh, hard, unforgiving. And Tony couldn't do much more than to take it, yield, let it wash over him, accept the emotions conveyed, reading them from the actions.

“Never leave me again,” Steve demanded and then looked back to the bed. Eyes focusing back on the matter at hand. “And now I want to know exactly what's going on.”

Tony nearly flinched. Steve seemed to pick up on that, stroked his arm encouragingly and said: “Tell me. I'll hear you out. As long as you promise me you're not going to vanish again.”

“Not for now. I didn't want you to worry your pretty, stubborn head when I wasn't actually dead,” he said and realized he was echoing the words from another place but smiled. “I wanted to come back to you, but I'd become... unstuck.”

Steve blinked but remained calm and quiet. “Tell me everything. In English.”

And Tony took his hand and whispered: “I will. Over a coffee. Outside in the sun. When was the last time you were in Central Park?”

Steve didn't protest; he let himself be pulled from the room. “I don't remember.”

Tony remembered too many times that had never happened. But he was ready to make real memories now.

“Let's go,” he said and was looking forward to the pleasing comfort of the real world and the exciting uncertainty of where things would be going now. 

Steve took his hand.

Finally, Tony didn’t feel like running away from this anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> As indicated in my beginning note I wrote a second story for the [phenomenal art by Apivotal](https://apivotal.tumblr.com/post/174745777130/i-got-lucky-enough-to-get-partnered-with-navaan)which is: [**My Hope and Home**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893250)
> 
> AND to give you even more to read and check out, JovialHarp5159 wrote another story for the amazing art which deserves all the awesome fic: [**I'll Be**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893067) (11229 words)
> 
> You can follow me for fic updates on [tumblr](https://navaanwrites.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/navaanwrites). This fic has a post on the tumblr [here](https://navaanwrites.tumblr.com/post/174746790079/unstuck-navaan-captain-americairon-man) in case you want to share it. It also has a page on my [Dreamwidth](https://navaan.dreamwidth.org/607062.html).


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